So one of my cats gets hungry at irregular intervals and if I don't feed him when he asks he goes on a hunger strike. I just was told it is breakfast time. I feed him in the bathroom because it is the one room I can shut him in so he can eat unmolested. Asking consists of him getting my attention and leading me into the bathroom. I happened to sit on the toilet to put the food in his bowl. I farted. The little fluffer turned around and left. I swear I heard him yelling, "Awe hell no! I ain't hanging around for that smell!" Like I had just taken a big steamy poo. |
Okay, how many people think of little old ladies listening to Laurence Welk and slow dancing with their arms around their partner. That's who little old ladies were when I was young. I just came into the realization that little old ladies would be more likely to blare Metallica. Dancing would include mosh pits and break-your-hip dancing. I imagine some old dude slowly lowering himself to the floor to do the worm. First struggling to lower himself to one knee then contorting to get the other one down. Then he'd have to ask the orderly to lower him the rest of the way. The only thing funnier to me than imagining him doing the worm is imagining him attempting to get back up. I predict that requires three orderlies, two nurses and a gait belt. Just wait some day soon will come the sound of Backstreet Boys echoing through retirement communities. |
There came a day when I realized that my grief for my mother was like I was shunning her for being dead. That in all ways her living spirit was as available to me as it was when I left the room or the house...